Welcome back to The Bootleg. Every year, about three weeks before Christmas, one of my wife’s co-workers throws the biggest holiday party in San Diego County.
The hostess and her husband begin the festivities around 4:00 PM and the event often extends into the wee hours of the next morning. In fact, it’s not unusual for close to 100 people to make their way through for some holiday cheer, in the form of free food and the shape of free booze.
Over the last several years, Mrs. Bootleg and I have been invited and every year our separate routines repeat themselves. And, for any of you who’ve ever been to one of your significant other’s work functions, I think you know the routine for which I speak.
The annual holiday gala guest list is made almost entirely of employees from my wife’s company. Admittedly, that’s not exactly a surprise”¦until you realize that me and the wife are pretty much the only husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend (or “other”, um, colorful California coupling) that don’t work together at this unnamed place.
Imagine, if you will, having to spend 8-10 hours day just a cubicle’s length from your mate, then carpooling home to spend the rest of your waking hours each day with the same person. You don’t even get weekends off. Hell, have you heard the rumor that Tookie Williams was offered a choice of commuting his death sentence to a life sentence similar to the above example?
Tookie chose wisely.
Anyways, all of this is my usually elongated way of saying those eight-plus hours of the wife and her co-workers talking shop isn’t exactly a “party”, so much as it’s a 500-minute lunch hour. The only difference is that their cafeteria’s stainless steel prison trays have been replaced with Christmas-themed Dixie plates.
We arrived around 7:00 PM and the wife immediately abandoned me to work the room. I fixed myself a lonely bachelor’s plate of seasonal, yet festive finger foods such as rolled tacos and Lil’ Smokies and assumed the traditional party position of the husband who doesn’t fit in. That meant standing next to the wife and pretending that some of my snacks were meant for my better half.
This real-time audio employee newsletter lasted for most of the early evening, before I finally discovered the bar from afar.
While the wife and her friends reminisced (again) about all of their on-the-job anecdotes from the past day or two, I sat down in front of a majestic collection of adult beverages. I began with cheap beer before discovering my life partner behind the other bottles. In the course of four hours, I almost ingested an entire bottle of Jack’s Sour Mash, along with my first-ever college cup of Cristal to complete the .23 BAC evening.
That’s pretty much all I remember, as there were large parts of the party and post-party that I still can’t recollect”¦like the long ride home. Mrs. Bootleg says I slept the whole way, before waking up to give Kid Cameron’s babysitter a long, fermented hug while reeking of grain alcohol and gratitude.
The next 24 hours were spent amidst the continuous nausea of “can’t quite purge purgatory”, where I carried all of the symptoms of your classic hangover, but with none of the Goodness of regurgitation. Is it possible to not throw up and still feel like sh*t?
Hell, up until now, that was the tagline for readers of The Goodness.
Quick aside: Next week, we’ll be running my yearly self-serving soliloquy, the Best of the Bootleg 2005. That’s 12 months worth of links that no longer work and jokes that never did to begin with. Then, in two weeks, me and Nick present the year’s Best & Worst in Hip Hop. Last year’s list pulled in a record haul of hate mail”¦can we outdo ourselves? Find out in 14 days! We’re back to the usual Goodness on January 6, when the overhyped double-barreled TWO Big Bootleg announcements are revealed.
Look for cryptic hints at the end of the next two columns, kids, as one reader will win a”¦
I Think Our Governor Blamed Tookie for Tha Doggfather LP
Snoop Dogg has had quite the busy week, as he seems to be whoring himself out across more low-rent entertainment endeavors than usual. On Monday, he was featured in a Monday Night Football pre-show vignette where he spoofed such never-before-lampooned taboos as Mel Gibson’s pre-decapitation “”¦take our freedom” dissertation from Braveheart, along with mocking his own “izzle, fizzle” act.
Oh, he went there.
Then, the following day, he released the two-fisted high school audio-video class classics: Welcome to Tha Chuuuch: Da Album and the straight-to-DVD movie Boss’n Up. The former features the single Real Soon, which was allegedly dedicated to the aforementioned Tookie Williams.
Oh, real classy, Snoop”¦what was the alternate title: U Finna Die?
Meanwhile, Snoop’s new movie leads into the latest news that the rapper has teamed with New England Patriots linebacker and childhood friend, Willie McGinest, to form Icon Sports & Entertainment. In the press release, the firm’s goal was outlined as,
“¦aiding college football stars in breaking into the world of entertainment.
Well, sure”¦I mean after getting free four-year rides to some of the most prestigious universities in the land, if there’s anything these guys need it’s a helping hand. I only hope there’s enough room in Hollywood for the next generation of Michael Clarke Duncans.
After all, who’ll be left to play the stereotypical heart-of-gold idiot inmate or evolved talking apes when he’s left acting to replace Ving Rhames in those Radio Shack ads that juxtapose their ubiquitous store-brand batteries with the 300-pound Black men who apparently buy them?
Radio Raheem: R.I.P.
Still”¦He’s More Respected than Chuck D.
VH1 is once again tapping into the reality show gold mine that is Flavor Flav. Public Enemy’s (arthritic) hype man/curmudgeonly minstrel has signed on for Flavor of Love, which will premiere in January. The show’s premise revolves around a swarthy bachelor (Flav) who will pick his true love from a bevy of bachelorettes. Seems as easy as A, B, C, don’cha think?
Now, I don’t watch reality shows and I’ve never even seen Survivor (even though Inside Pulse has its two best writers on the beat), but this show will work”¦and I will watch. Just one thing: Please tell me that they’re not going to show the women who they’re competing for until the final episode.
Even better, let Flav wear one of those “Mission Impossible”-style masks that peels right off, for maximum shock value. Am I the only one who can hear the host in the season finale?
“”¦but, before this goes any further, Emily, you should know”¦that this man’s name isn’t”¦really“¦Darky McDelicious. (Flav peels off mask)”
If a white girl were to win, we’d be talking an easy 98 on the “O.J. Verdict Face” scale.
The show is promising that the women will vie for Flav’s affection through, among other things, cooking competitions and (I am NOT making this up) “dates at Red Lobster”. Red Lobster!
What”¦was Sizzler considered “too classy”?
Hell, you don’t take a date to Red Lobster, unless it’s you and Shooter McGavin prematurely celebrating the breakdown of Happy Gilmore in the second act of the movie of the same name.
And, what’s up with those commercials? Does Red Lobster really think that those slow motion shots of lemon wedges being squeezed over everything on the plate makes those tiny, two-dollar tap water lobster tails tasty?
Black People Have Names Like Carl, Part 2
In the last 15 years, Ice Cube has gone from (pause) militant angry rapper to Millicent’s favorite family actor. See, because he’s a lot less threatening”¦and “Millicent” is one of those quintessential “white girl” names, even though no one’s ever actually known any girl with that name and”¦ah, forget it.
And, I’m leaving it in just to spite you.
Anyways, Cube has teamed with Emmy Award winning filmmaker R.J. Cutler on a new documentary called Black. White. The program will air in six parts on the FX network starting next March. The show is about two families”¦The Sparks, a Black family from Atlanta (is there any other kind down there?) and The Wurgels, a white family from “parts unknown”, apparently.
With the help of the make-up guy from Passion of the Christ (seriously), the Black family will become “white” and the white family will become “Black”. Apparently, all the cinematic clamoring for a viable vehicle featuring C. Thomas Howell, co-starring Shawn n’ Marlon Wayans made this one happen.
Not sold yet”¦? Well, the series is tentatively set in Southern California’s San Fernando Valley, which means the producers might wanna consider adding another certain race to the title”¦or at least find a role for Edward James Olmos. I mean, as long as everyone else will need eight hours in the make-up truck”¦
Personally, I can’t wait until each family’s real race is inadvertently revealed in front of “everyone”, as is wont to happen in this type of claptrap. And, it’s in the San Fernando Valley? Ooh, someone’s gonna get stabbed. When you make a fool out of someone there, they aren’t as forgiving as Rae Dawn Chong.
Apparently Light-Skinned Bruthas ARE Making a Comeback
OK, I want everyone out there to raise their hand when they find something wrong with this next news item. Lenny Kravitz has reportedly made a bid to buy the $22 million apartment that he’s been renting in New York City’s luxurious Trump International Hotel and Tower.
In fact, I’m told that the five bedroom, six bathroom Xanadu makes Mr. Drummond’s Park Ave. penthouse from Diff’rent Strokes look like the Harlem apartment where he “found” Gary Coleman and Todd Bridges. (And, look for the results from Mathan’s year-long investigation in an upcoming Moodspins.)
Anyways, I’d like to know what reputable financial institution would actually loan eight figures of American currency to a man whose highlights from his résumé include “married to Lisa Bonet”. Did Lenny get a piece of Lisa’s residuals from her first and only season on A Different World?
And, does it include any interest in Jasmine Guy’s future earnings? After all, a brutha might wanna buy a Blow-Pop.
On top of that, I doubt his late mother, Roxie Roker, reaped any real royalties from The Jeffersons. If anyone on that show had actually made any money, then Sherman Hemsley wouldn’t have had to accept Amen, Marla Gibbs could’ve turned down 227 and Isabel “Weezy” Sanford wouldn’t have needed to go back out on tour.
Now, Do the Ed Lover Dance!
Remember that brutha with the wrinkly mug that used to host Yo! MTV Raps back in the day? Well, Ed Lover is still alive, allegedly. The NYPD announced that they are seeking Lover, 68, for questioning in relation to an incident at Duvet, a Manhattan nightclub.
Witnesses say that Lover hopped over a railing and into the VIP section, where he punched a woman who was arguing with his girlfriend. The woman was reportedly left with a wound that required 20 stitches.
Man, where to begin”¦where to begin”¦ Of course, it’s easy to believe that Ed Lover wasn’t anywhere near the VIP section, originally. It’s not like this is still 1988 or anything. On the other hand, how did he even hear all the VIP commotion from inside a noisy club, while working his current gig as “urinal attendant”?
One would think he’d have to focus on squirting liquid soap into men’s hands and selling packs of Big Red for five bucks. And, I don’t believe Ed Lover “hopped over” anything and came down with his hip and replaced kneecaps in tact”¦
Anyways, the most shocking thing to me is how one punch“¦from the hand that once picked cotton“¦could require 20 stitches. That’s an Eric Kulas-caliber blade job, at best, kids. Now let’s all hope that New Jack Lover can parlay his obviously loaded glove into a successful stint on the independent sports-entertainment circuit.
Oh, and before I forget”¦is it acceptable to tip those bathroom guys for just the first time I flush, or do they expect a buck every time I take a piss? I’ve always wondered about that.
Sometimes the News Just Writes Itself
It’s a Bootleg Full Circle, as we begin and end with the S-N-double O-P. In case you missed it, Snoop Dogg’s mother, Beverly Broadus Green, has launched a nationwide anti-gang, anti-violence campaign.
She plans on touring schools across the country to speak out on the evils of gang life, which should carry a little extra weight coming from the mother of the most famous gang-banger on planet Earth. C’mon, Bev”¦your son’s gang life, and his glorification thereof, paid for everything from your crib to your wig.
So, how does Big Momma Dogg defend herself against this inherent hypocrisy?
“Don’t look at me for what Snoop’s done. When you raise your children, they go out and do things. I don’t like it and he knows I don’t like it, but that’s what pays the bills.”
Wait”¦let me get this straight”¦she’s arguing the con position here? Her whole argument is “gangs is (sic) bad, but, whatever, I guess”¦” But, that’s still not my favorite quote, as the head of Boston’s Epiphany School (where Beverly’s anti-gang thang will kick off) chimes in with this one:
“When the mother of a famous star speaks out, people listen.”
So, what”¦is she selling Chunky Soup on the side? These are middle-school kids”¦they don’t listen to their own mothers. But, we’re supposed to believe that they’ll all gather at assembly to listen to”¦some lady.
Sorry, but if Donovan McNabb’s mom can’t even make me consume one can of Campbell’s Cream of Salt soups, then I don’t see how Snoop’s mom can succeed.
Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi
When we last left, I was in the middle of some of my favorite guest appearances by Hip Hop artists. This week, we’re continuing with part 2 (of 3) with one of two rappers that are on a whole other level in that department.
Method Man
Once upon a time in the 1990s, the Wu Tang Clan’s Mister Meth was putting out guest appearances at a rate faster than Master P was putting out steaming piles of sh*t passed off as rap CDs. Meth’s verses always killed whatever he was on. Maybe it was because he was always competing against multiple MCs from his own Clan. His work with partner-in-crime Redman usually stepped his game up a notch as well. Whatever the case, for a few years this guy was untouchable, appearing on everything from Wu Tang members’ albums, R&B singers’ albums, soundtracks, you name it”¦which makes what’s happened to him in recent years that much harder to take.
He went from being the guest EVERYONE wanted on their album to releasing an album with so many guests, it sounded like it was someone else’s (2004’s Tical 0: the Prequel). Meth’s prolonged absence from music possibly added to unreasonable expectations. I can’t be mad at him for trying to make money. He probably made more off How High than all his albums combined.
For purposes of representing true guest appearances, no tracks from any Wu Tang group album, the Meth/Red Blackout album or any Meth solo tracks from soundtracks were excluded.
Some of my favorites”¦
Shadowboxin, GZA
The GZA has never been one to take a back seat to anyone lyrically. However, Meth ripped the mic with an understated flow on this and it’s arguably one of his best verses anywhere. Although classic verses were found with abundance on Liquid Swords, do you remember any better than this?
I breaks it down to the bone gristle
Ill speaking Scud missile heat seeking
Johnny Blazing, nightmares like Wes Craven
N*ggaz gunnin, my third eye seen it coming
Before it happen
You know about them f*cking Staten
Kids they smashin
Everything huh, in any shape form or fashion
NYC Everything , RZA
By the time RZA’s Bobby Digital project came out, the Wu were in a bit of a decline. The disc itself received mixed reviews but Meth lit another of his Wu brethren’s tracks on fire, proving he truly was Johnny Blaze lyrically. The whole verse is pretty sick, but here’s how it started:
Drink a Heineken, as we go inside the mind again
Nevermindin men droppin gem, can he shine again
Most definite, let this be my last will in testament
For the pessimist, exercise for the Exorcist
Johnny Treacherous, like Three, I’m supposed to be
Perpetuous, decimate the poetry cause everything is close to me
Got My Mind Made Up, 2Pac
Appearing on Pac’s All Eyez On Me double album, having Pac, Method Man, Redman and the Dogg Pound on the same track was a “holy sh*t ” factor in and of itself. Everyone brought their A game here although it’s argued that the verses were thrown together from other tracks.
Rarely do you see an MC out for justice
Got my gun powder and my musket — blaooow!!
Melons get swellings, I paint mental pictures like Magellan
Half of my Clan’s three deep felons
N*ggaz best protect they joints for Nine-Nickel
Man I stay on point like Icicles
4,3,2,1, LL Cool J
Like the previous track, this was another all-star collaboration where Meth’s verse was just as hard as anyone else’s. On the shorter side, it said a lot with a little and kicked some serious ass. Where the hell are songs like this today?
Playin my position, hot Nicks son
This one, for all the sick ones, confliction
Poisonous darts sickening, best believe
Finger itchin with two broke legs, now I’m trippin
On MC’s cliche, shot that ricochets
Start trouble bust bubbles, hip to wicked ways
Gotta love me, G-O-D no one above me
Look good but f*ck ugly, tap your jaw
From my Punch Buggy sunnin you
Got you shittin in your last Huggie, runnin who?
Fuckin punk, get a speed bump comin through
A single shot make your knees knock, respect Wu
Those four tracks came to mind, but he honestly had so many:
The What , Notorious B.I.G.
Half Man Half Amazin’, Pete Rock
Grand Finale, DMX
Gunz N Onez, Heltah Sketah
The list goes on.
Next up, the other king of guest appearances”¦Jay Z.
General Haberdashery
Fernandez has a special announcement regarding the future of his column. He’s also taking someone special to Boston next year and needs YOUR help in soliciting the best bars in town. Neither of these topics appear in the column he didn’t write last Saturday, but that link should take you right into our super-secret staff forum where you can read all about it. Should.
Mathan comes clean on his love less hate for Tupac, with a few words on Hispanic Hip Hop. Frankly, the genre hasn’t been the same since A Lighter Shade of Brown. Oh, and even though Math teases a different direction for his album of the year choice, I know that he’s going to pick”¦whoops, this link is now officially longer than his column”¦better wrap things up.
Mike Eagle dropped our favorite in the Hip Hop Essentials series, so far (as of Wednesday). There’s some great writing to go with some damn fine choices, too. By the way, he also didn’t write his regular music column this week. Christ, guys, don’t make me have to resort to linking myself.
That Bootleg Guy contributes a list of essentials that includes nothing but Crips, along with songs that include Limp Bizkit, Everlast and Black Eyed Peas. Someone tell PHIL WATTS, I’m kidding about that last one”¦or am I?
J.A.M. = the fourth in the line of short-lived novelty writing nicknames for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers.
J is for Movie Joe Reid. He’s got an unintentionally hee-larious 2005 music mix up and for the whole world to mock. Kelly Clarkson”¦six times? Howie Day”¦on there at all? Oh, and he predicts the Golden Globe nominations, then comes back to congratulate himself on how well he did”¦on the nominations! This is like a football team that celebrates after scoring three 1st quarter touchdowns, even though the game still needs to be played to the end.
Also, be sure to check out Joe over at The Film Experience. This week he”¦continues the Golden Globes discussion. And, with a special guest writer as his foil. No, no”¦click on the link, since nearly 28% of Joe’s points are ones he didn’t repeat from his Low Resolution blog. Call this a companion piece to Joe’s sense of self-worth.
A is for me.
M is for TV Mathan. He’s talking Boondocks and makes some good points. Personally, I thought last week’s episode on “the truth behind gangsta rappers” was better than the last three shows, but still disappointing. The writing and characters are way too broad, while the plotlines are without a shred of subtlety. Gangsta rappers are fake-azz studio creations? Wow, haven’t heard that one before.
Junk Mail
Thanks for taking the proper approach for your “essentials”. I’ll never understand why net writers take themselves so goddam seriously, as if their opinion is the end all be all. Good to know someone still knows that music is supposed to be fun.
Geoff G.
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C’mon, Cam. I’ve been reading your rap reviews since 411 and your list of essentials includes Warren G and”¦The Twins! Dude, if you didn’t have time to even act like you cared, why’d you bother putting that wack ass list together? Weak.
Luis A.
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Fun (essentials) list. Other than Snoop, I pretty much disagree with you on everything though. I think Warren’s third album (I Want It All) is VERY underrated and his most complete work to date. Everything else is admittedly subjective, so I ain’t mad at you. But, you’ve got no room for The Chronic? WTF?
Mike A.
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GREAT job on the all time guest spots segment in Nicka Please. Much love especially for mentioning Em on Forgot About Dre which was absolute fire, but fell in between the change in Em’s flow from his first album in ’99 to his Marshall Mathers LP in 2000. Em does NOT get enough credit for his work in the early days, so thanks for recognizing.
Brian H.
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Y’all pulled off that guest spots feature real nice. You covered the historical perspective (Snoop, Nas) with the right amount of heat (Biggie) and even a one-hit guest spot wonder thrown in (Xzibit). I ain’t trying to criticize, but I hope you and Nick will revisit this with some less known artist guest spots. Especially those lesser known acts who showed up to help out some bigger names. In particular, a lot of Jigga’s material from 1998-2000 seemed like open mic night with some of the guest spots, but a lot of them worked.
Jesse M.
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How long have we had to read about your love for Lil’ Kim on the Quiet Storm remix? And, then when you have the chance to represent, y’all forget to include her? Did Nick pull rank in your own column? I better see an “ajc wildcard” entry with her name on it. I ain’t a groupie, just someone who loves her verse as much as you do.
Unsigned
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My last day of work is next Tuesday. After that, it’s all IM, all the time! (Until I go back to work.) Get at me on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.
